


Hygiene Hypothesis

by BrilliantLady



Category: Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, Manipulative Relationship, Origin Story, Secret Identity Fail, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantLady/pseuds/BrilliantLady
Summary: It was entirely Clark’s fault that Lex decided he had to become a supervillain.





	1. Truth Will Out

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Depression, and suicidal thoughts and impulses. Everyone lives, though. :)

It was entirely Clark’s fault that Lex decided he had to become a supervillain. The dark yin to balance out Clark’s yang. Superman burned so bright and pure that the grateful masses worshiped his light and goodness, but Lex knew that what can illuminate can also burn. Untempered, Superman’s fierce light could scorch the whole earth.

The two of them were lounging around in Lex’s Metropolis penthouse when the decision point came, though Clark was oblivious to the significance of the moment. Lex had his feet propped up on a dark leather ottoman which had cost more than the entire collection of used furniture in Clark’s whole tiny apartment. Lex was tapping away on a sleek black laptop, working his way through some late-night emails from overseas business contacts, distractedly keeping Clark company while his friend watched TV.

Clark was watching a documentary on the enormous flat screen television. It was something he needed to review for his college course in “International Reporting”, in preparation for an essay. In theory he could watch it back in his own flea-trap, but Lex’s large and sound-proofed penthouse was much more comfortable, and the company was better than listening to his neighbors in the flat above having another domestic squabble.

“I can’t believe Kim Jong-il is still in power,” Clark said with a scowl, as the documentary started covering the history of North Korea. “That man’s corruption is so obvious. And the stranglehold he puts on the press! It’s unbelievable.”

“There are other countries just as bad,” Lex said, with an absent-minded shrug. “The nation is stable, at least. The majority of people there lead peaceful and happy lives, which is more than some nations can boast. LexCorp has some profitable business interests in North Korea; you just have to know how to navigate the bureaucracy.”

Clark glared at the television some more as the narrator talked about the country’s prison system and mistreatment of political prisoners. “It’s not _right_ ,” he burst out. “There are so many human rights abuses there! Sometimes I think… that Superman should do something about it.”

Lex’s fingers stilled briefly on his laptop keyboard for a moment before resuming their tapping. He kept the screen carefully angled away so that Clark wouldn’t see him typing nonsense letters while they talked. “What do you think he should do? I think he’s doing a fine job stopping bank robberies and evacuating people from flood zones.”

Clark seemed to think Lex was fooled by some fake glasses, bad suits, and a hairstyle change. Lex was content to let him. It worked well on most people, but Lex knew him too well. A few others had found out as well and been persuaded or bribed into keeping their silence. Threatened too, when necessary. Lex thought Clark would probably cry if he knew how many of his ‘friends’ had turned to Lex for bribes to not take their stories to the media.

Clark started explaining to Lex about how Kim Jong-il should be replaced. Then he branched out. The mess in what was once Yugoslavia – the genocide and war crimes, and the ongoing fighting and terrorism. Anarchy in Somalia, and the human rights abuses going on without an active government. The child soldiers in the ongoing second civil war in Sudan, the death toll from fighting, and the deadly outbreaks of disease and famine. Censorship, political prisoners, and torture in Syria, and the tolerance there for ‘honor killings’. The Chinese occupation of Tibet. Corruption in far too many countries in Africa, and military coups in South-East Asia. Bombings in the Middle-East. Religious oppression and terrorism – the slaughter of those of a different race or religion in the name of ‘righteousness’.

He spoke passionately, mind flitting from one example of the world’s tendency towards corruption and violence to the next. Clark was half-way through a long explanation of banana republics in South America when Lex finally managed to derail him.

“Clark! Clark, stop. I know. I know there’s terrible things going on in the world. Violence, and war, and corruption everywhere. Women getting hurt, children, dying, and people dying for their political beliefs. But it’s too much for one person to deal with, even Superman. One intervention would lead to the need for another one, and it would _never end_ , Clark. People wouldn’t lie down to be so easily ruled, and most of the governments you’re complaining about were legally elected. Superman is busy enough dealing with things that _are_ easily fixed.”

“He might have free time,” said Clark, with a gleam in his eye, and a laugh to cover the gleam.

“Not that much,” rebutted Lex with a friendly smile. The convincing kind of smile he used in business negotiations. “He’d never be able to rest again, and sooner or later he would have to start killing people, and I don’t think he wants to do that.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to,” Clark replied, with a slight emphasis on the word ‘want’ that made Lex nervous. “Perhaps he could build a giant prison? That would be better.”

They laughed about that together. Just a joke. A hypothetical solution to the world’s problems. It wasn’t the first time that Clark had scared Lex with his observations about the state of the world, but Lex vowed it would be the _last_.

“That would make him an international criminal, not a hero,” Lex observed with a smile. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.”

“Not even to save lives? Millions of them? Maybe it would be worth it,” mused Clark, “to make the world a better place.”

Lost for words, breathing slowly and carefully so his heart rate wouldn’t jump up and give away his fear, Lex fell back on the words of another to make his case for him.

“’Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.’ C.S. Lewis.”

“It wouldn’t be _tormenting_ people, Lex. It would be removing the tormentors. But I suppose you’re right – it would be too much work for one man. Even Superman.”

Clark’s smile was more practiced than it used to be, and his agreement sounded sincere. However, Lex didn’t trust it. Clark had started to become too good a liar.

-000-

Lex swirled the whiskey in the cut glass and drank down the golden liquid as his combination bodyguard and personal assistant entered his apartment. She’d been summoned from her quarters, despite the late hour, the instant Clark had left the building.

“Mercy, it’s time for Plan K.”

She blinked in surprise, which for her was tantamount to showing extreme shock. “Has it really come to that, sir?”

“I’m afraid so. He’s started picking out which countries to conquer. He’s not thinking of it in those terms, of course. Just overthrowing some dictators. Destroying their military and its infrastructure. Then he’ll tell the populace how to rebuild their country, change their culture, and reinterpret their religion. Of _course_ they’ll listen, and everyone will _understand_ and no-one will retaliate. There will just be this wonderful smooth transition to democracy and universal human rights.”

Lex imitated the earnest, wide-eyed expression Clark had worn as he’d passionately explained his very logical and _right_ plan to start conquering and ruling the world, one piece at a time. He’d been so sure that Lex would understand if he just explained it right. If Lex had one regret about his own past behavior, it was to wonder if he’d indulged Clark too much, sheltered him from the ugliness and realities of the world. Perhaps it had been a mistake to rely on Clark as a moral compass pointing true north, away from his father’s inescapable ethical influence that had shaped Lex’s whole life. Had placing his friend on a pedestal made Clark think he could do no wrong?

“Ah. Shall I get things moving then, sir? What shall we start with? Munitions sales? Costumed minions?”

“Secret experimental weapons development, I think. That should keep him busy and distracted. He’s always been bothered by that, even when said weapons would preserve human lives merely at the expense of a few fish. It should raise our profile with the military too – it will establish Superman as a potential threat to national security before he gets too beloved by the masses.

“Start putting the word out that we’re open for contracts and alert our scientific teams to our new research priorities.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lex didn’t want to be a supervillain. But he would be, for Clark’s sake.

-000-

Many years passed. It was Diana’s golden lasso of truth that broke the charade, in the end. The heroine had been monitored quietly by LexCorp agents for decades, but while she worked quietly in a museum she was of little concern to the government agencies that kept a track of superpowered beings. She was assessed as “low risk”, and little further thought was given to her apart from a few notes in her thin file documenting her activism in women’s rights issues and her work funding a refuge for female victims of domestic violence. Her record only noted a couple of potentially illegal actions, specifically some assault charges against some particularly egregious domestic violence abusers which frankly were quite justifiable and understandable, given the state that ‘Wonder Woman’ had discovered the men’s partners in.

She wasn’t thought a risk to national or world security. But then Clark started recruiting. He was growing frustrated by the villains he struggled to beat (whom all too often were supplied with Kryptonite courtesy of LexCorp), and by occasional alien invasions that genuinely had nothing to do with Lex. Clark – Superman – wanted to form a team of heroes to do what he couldn’t do alone. The ‘Justice League’, he called it.

Batman was a low risk member – his ambitions were localized to Gotham, and his cooperation with the local police force there was solid and respected, and of many years’ duration. He was a “good” hero, by Lex’s reckoning. A human hero, focused on human problems, and willing to work with the authorities. And if he should set his sights too high, should he be tempted to turn his infiltration skills and arsenal of tricks towards goals like assassinating world leaders? Well then, Talia would be the first person he’d surely turn to. She was a good agent and would be swift to report if Batman crossed a line. The police – or if necessary a couple of snipers with high-powered rifles – could end the threat of Batman easily enough by arresting or eliminating Bruce Wayne at one of the many galas he attended.

Lex was caught at one of his secret facilities, while inspecting the labs. The golden coils of Wonder Woman’s lasso wrapped in shining loops around Lex’s body, and he cursed quietly on the inside. He hoped the police showed up soon, before the interrogation got too far advanced. Wonder Woman wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in Detroit, where they’d arranged for a bomb threat at a Planned Parenthood clinic to distract her while Superman got his weekly dose of action.

“You have to let me go,” he ordered her desperately. “It’s vitally important for the safety and freedom of the world. Don’t ask me any questions – you’ll regret it. Not because of any harm I’ll do, but because of secrets that _must_ remain buried.”

Wonder Woman frowned.

“He’s lying of course, he always lies,” sighed Superman. “How is he resisting the effects of your lasso?”

“He’s not…” Wonder Woman said slowly. “He’s telling the truth, as best he understands it, at least. If he’s lying, he’s lying to himself as well. Deluded. He must truly believe his silence is important for the safety of the world.”

“Luthor, why?” Superman asked gravely. “The research into lasers you were doing here could have been turned to better purposes than building giant death rays. The work you did with improving laser eye surgery for infants was revolutionary, innovative! You could help people so much. Why not just have your lab stick to legal projects? I’ve never understood why you turn your genius to evil.”

“I _have_ stuck to legal projects here. There’s military funding for the orbital laser cannons and frankly I’m disappointed you skimped again on your research and didn’t uncover that fact,” Lex babbled helplessly. Why did he have to start with “Why?”, which was such an open-ended question? At least he had some _limited_ ability to shape his answer, he was trying to focus in on answering just the second question about sticking to legal projects, but the urge to babble continued.

“It was hidden under layers of encryption of course,” Lex continued, “but you could have used superspeed and your theoretically intelligent brain to hack the lab’s computers before resorting to juvenilely breaking everything in sight. I had hoped you might talk to our lead scientist Dr. Chang and be open about your concerns. He was primed to tell you about the military contract for laser cannons if you’d asked. It appears I thought too highly of your journalistic skills. It was yet another disappointment. I’m pleased at least that you refrained from destroying the computer server – you appear to be learning the importance of preserving evidence for the police, as well as valuing vital medical and research data which can be stored on computers which _additionally_ hold data that appears to be illegal and dangerous.”

Superman’s jaw gaped.

“I apologize if we’ve interfered in your legal business today,” Wonder Woman said with a regal nod of her head. “I was led to believe you’d be mounting your laser cannons on a satellite with which to threaten the nations of earth. Was this not so? Do you have any plans for revenge for our intrusion today?”

Lex struggled against the lasso, and tried in vain to keep his mouth shut, before the words came blurting out a mere moment later. “No, while I might threaten the nations of earth that would just be a scenario where I was bluffing for Clark’s benefit. The primary purpose of orbital laser cannons is to establish a planetary defense grid for dealing with extra-terrestrial threats such as those we’ve already encountered, and several additional warmongering alien species Green Lantern has quietly warned the government about, as well as any asteroids that venture too close to earth.

“My current plan for revenge for today’s intrusion is to broach the idea with others of consistently taking legal action against Superman for property damage and trespassing. He’s becoming more responsive to working with the police and justice system of late, and we think he might respect the legal process now enough to show up. It might help train him not to engage in wanton property destruction if he’s forced to account for damages. I will also toss around ideas with others on how to rid you of your golden lasso as it poses a significant threat to our goals and your usage also breaches laws about questioning prisoners and due process. Your threat level will unfortunately be upgraded from ‘Low’ to ‘Medium’ at the very least, which is a shame. Until recently you were a model superhero.”

“That all seems acceptable, and I shall research these laws you speak of; I apologize if my questioning was inappropriate and illegal. Superman, I think we should let him go. The police will deal with him from here,” she said, then paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. “And the police may possibly deal with you too, if you cooperate, as he’s clearly genuine in his desire to press charges for property destruction and alas it appears justified.” She moved to unwind Lex from the coils of lasso, and Lex smiled in relief.

“Wait, wait a moment,” Superman pleaded with her, a hand on her arm. “He said my name – he knows who I am. I _have_ to ask him about that. My mother could be in danger.”

“Alright,” she conceded slowly. “I respect your concern for your mother. But that’s it – one last question for her sake.”

“Don’t, please don’t. You’ll ruin everything!” Lex cried, but she didn’t relent in her decision, and Superman started asking his questions – not just the one as agreed – over the top of Lex’s pleas.

“So, you know who I am?” Superman asked Lex. “But why didn’t you ever do anything about it? Reveal my identity publicly? Or threaten my family?”

“Yes, I’ve always known who you are, and my advisers and allies agreed with me that to reveal your identity publicly would be injurious to yourself and to our own goals of keeping the world safe.

“Down time is important for mental health – the psychologists I consulted agreed that having human connections would help keep you stable and sympathetic to humanity. Maintaining your secret identity also requires you to have a full-time job to pay for your apartment and bills, which keeps you busy and out of trouble. In addition to providing more links to humanity through your friendships and patchy doomed romances with workplace colleagues, your job occupies a significant portion of your time which reduces the burden of providing you with opponents to fight and schemes to foil. Journalism was judged a good profession for training you to investigate issues more thoroughly and develop good research skills, and to improve your ability to see the world in shades of gray rather than black and white, so I wished to preserve and support that.

“I _have_ done things about knowing your secret identity, such as ensuring your continued employment at the _Daily Planet_ despite your frequent absences with threadbare excuses that would otherwise have seen you fired on several occasions. I’ve never threatened your family, in fact I’ve had my people save Martha from two attempted kidnappings and three assassination attempts.

“Please let me go,” Lex added, with a resigned sigh. Damn it. Years of work ruined, by Clark’s prying and Wonder Woman’s curiosity.

“What do you mean _providing_ me with opponents to fight?” Clark asked, aghast. “You’re _training_ me?”

“Without enough crime to fight or disasters to avert, your mind too often starts turning to schemes to overthrow governments or otherwise take control of the planet. Mass disarmament, feeding the hungry through theft of agricultural resources from more prosperous nations, ruining the earth’s ecosystem to bring rain to your favorite States, or rounding up a nation’s freedom fighters because you watched a special on Fox News that called them terrorists and you don’t bother to research the history of the war in question. We keep you busy so that you’ll be too occupied to take over the world. We try our best to train you to respect world governments and the law. I and others want you to learn to stop and think before you act rashly, to see from perspectives other than your own, to learn an acceptable range of crimes to intervene against, and generally become disinclined towards attempting to conquer the world or taking any actions that might trigger world or international wars.”

“Is Superman currently a threat to the world?” Wonder Woman asked gravely. “Have your interventions actually helped reduce the danger he poses?”

“Diana! I’m not! I swear! I just want to help people, that’s all!”

She winced a little as Clark thoughtlessly used her real name, but relaxed with a resigned sigh when she saw Lex didn’t react with surprise or interest at hearing her name.

“We judge him to currently be a ‘Medium to High’ risk, which is a significant improvement on the ‘Very High’ and ‘Extreme’ risk levels he was in his early twenties. Jimmy reports that he no longer daydreams about dumping elected world leaders in prisons, for instance – Clark’s learnt that his personal judgement of right and wrong may not match up with a country’s laws or values, and that a dictator may be replaced by another dictator, perhaps someone more even more oppressive. He is slowly learning that one intervention leads to a need for more – that direct action doesn’t fix everything in an instant. He is more willing to let nations self-govern, though he remains inclined to meddle in the Middle-East if he has too much free time. However, his arrogant and dangerous plan to form a ‘Justice League’ answerable to no-one has people considering upgrading him back to ‘Very High’ risk.”

“Jimmy is in on this?” Superman asked, reeling from yet another shock.

“Of course. We’ve greatly appreciated his courageous assistance in volunteering for roles as a hostage or in so-called ‘death traps’. He’s a patriotic and brave young man – one of our best agents.”

“That’s _quite enough_ , I think Clark,” Diana said. “While his discussion is most illuminating, it is clearly unjustified to continue to treat him as a criminal and a threat. Your mother is clearly in no danger, and our questioning unjustified.” With a quick flick the steel-like coils of lasso untangled from around Lex and returned to soft loops of silken gold which she hooked on her belt.

She held her hand out to Lex. “Mr. Luthor, I do apologize for putting you in that situation, and I assure you it won’t happen again unless requested by yourself or authorized by your justice system – I shall learn these men’s laws you spoke of regarding proper protocol for questioning. I hope our intrusive questions won’t lead to any negative outcomes today. I hope and pray to the Gods that having the truth out at last will open everyone’s eyes and lead to a more peaceful and honest life for all. I shall do everything I can to help manage any ramifications of my actions today.”

“Thank you,” Lex said gravely, shaking her hand. “I may need to take you up on that offer.” His eyes flicked meaningfully towards Clark, who had his arms wrapped around himself, and still looked shell-shocked.

“You’re not the villain. _I’m_ the villain?” Clark said in bewilderment. “Has my whole life been a lie? What about Doomsday? I almost _died_. Hundreds of innocent people were killed!”

Lex sighed. “Doomsday was real. We’d never sanction that level of collateral deaths, unless you had literally gone insane and were actively engaged in world conquest.”

“Gorilla Grodd? Brainiac? The Joker? Mr. Mxyzptlk? General Zod? The Cyborg Superman?”

“The Joker is genuinely crazy, and General Zod was a real threat. The others were all ours. Mr. M. has been one of our best contacts – he’s a hero in his home world of the ‘fifth dimension’ despite his odd sense of humour. He’s always happy to pop over and help us out whenever we get stuck for ideas to keep you occupied – he finds it fun. Brainiac I’m pleased to say is a LexCorp invention – one of my greatest creations. I do wish you wouldn’t keep smashing him, but of course that’s his purpose – to give you a robotic opponent as an outlet for your more destructive impulses. We were all very excited about the most recent confrontation when you chose to arrest him, if only because you thought he’d just rebuild himself better than before if destroyed.”

“The cyborg version of me tries to kill me. _Often_.”

Lex coughed and avoided eye contact as he adjusted his cufflinks. “Yes, well… Hank gets a little overenthusiastic sometimes. You did get his wife and crew all crippled by mutations after you thoughtlessly threw the Eradicator into the sun on the side facing the earth, like the sun was your own personal garbage disposal. You caused a massive solar flare laced with dangerous radiation, Clark. Terri Henshaw and Hank’s friends all committed suicide rather than slowly die as monsters. Hank himself would’ve literally disintegrated if LexCorp hadn’t made him a semi-robotic body. Honestly, I think he’s hoping you’ll kill him, and reveal your villainy to yourself and the world. There’s a suicidal streak there we’re having trouble addressing despite extensive counselling.”

“That’s… I thought the solar flare was… I didn’t mean to…” Clark trailed off glumly. “Why… why did you make him look like me?”

“Psychological impact. To prompt you to stop and think about your own dark side, Clark. Did it work?”

“No! I… yes. Maybe a bit. He seemed so casual about killing but put on this act like he was good. Didn’t he kill a family in Coast City?”

“That was a random murder we had Hank take credit for. It was a murder-suicide by the father – his wife had threatened to leave him and take the children with her.”

“Oh.”

“If you ever deign to do a proper investigation you’ll find it’s all true. At the time you dug deep enough to see through the lie that it was the Eradicator come back to existence that was responsible for people’s deaths. But you didn’t dig deep enough to find the real truth beneath. You’re always too willing to suspect the ‘good’ things done by villains, but you never entertain doubts about their villainous acts. The ‘truth’ of those you always take on faith.” The last words came out with a rush of anger, almost spat out like they were poison. So many accusations, so little questioning. Lex had _wanted_ Clark to be fooled by his plotted scenarios… but he’d wanted more for Clark to question them. To have faith in him. It had been easy… too easy. Clark was always willing to think the worst of a _Luthor_ in the end, just like everyone else.

They’d been friends, once. He’d thought once that Clark was his best friend. But Clark had never had the pure faith in him that Hope did. Never offered the support for his every action like Mercy did. Mercy and Hope weren’t his first friends, but they had proved to be his most loyal.

Lex’s phone chimed with Roy Orbison crooning “Pretty Woman” at him from across the room (Mercy’s ringtone) and acting on the presumption that _this_ time Clark wouldn’t assume he wanted his phone to set off explosives or some other dire plan, he casually strolled over to scoop it up from the corner where Clark had tossed it. Good, the screen wasn’t broken. Superman was always tough on phones, or indeed any other suspicious electronic devices like car keys, laptops, iPods, and on one particularly dumb-witted occasion, a new coffee maker.

“Luthor,” he answered briefly.

“Boss,” Mercy said with relief. “I’m on my way with the police. Status and instructions?”

“Physically fine apart from a sprained or cracked ankle from being dropped onto concrete-”

Clark winced. “Sorry.”

Lex ignored him. It was far from the greatest of the injuries inflicted by his former friend in the cause of ‘justice’. Clark liked to spout his idealistic sermons about the universal rights of mankind, but he didn’t seem to feel ‘criminals’ deserved quite as much care or as many rights as ‘innocents’. It was a lucky thing for Lex that he healed fast.

“-We will be looking at pressing property damage charges. Perhaps some community service. Get our lawyers started on that.”

Clark hung his head, silent.

“More seriously, we have other repercussions thanks to Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth, as the _cat is out of the bag_ ,” Lex said, putting extra emphasis on the code phrase. “We shall discuss that in more detail later. Do not initiate any other plans prematurely.”

“…Yes, sir.”

-000-

The police arrived around the same time that Mercy did, with Lex’s highly-paid lawyer and their legal assistant in tow. The assistant immediately got started photographing and recording the scene while Lex’s lawyer spoke to the police about the trespassing and property damage charges LexCorp would be laying.

Superman just stood there, silent and still as a statue, still looking shell-shocked. His arms hung limply at his sides, and he wore an uncharacteristic hangdog expression, rather than the stern look of superiority he usually wore for his post-fight lectures, arms crossed on his chest in righteous indignation.

Lex liked the new look on Clark a lot better. Limp. Defeated. It was _his_ turn to lecture. Lex crossed his arms grandly as he did so, just for the fun of it.

“Stay away from the Fortress, Superman,” Lex warned. “I’m well aware of your birth father’s opinion on your true destiny. I realize you’re upset right now but do your brooding elsewhere. Perhaps over a slice of apple pie. That always seems to help.” He didn’t want to mention Martha or Smallville in front of the police. Even while knowing that crooked cops existed, Clark never quite realized how pervasive they could be, especially if large amounts of money were involved. For the possibility of selling an exclusive – or blackmail material – about Superman’s secret identity, a lot of people would be willing to compromise their morals.

Clark nodded obediently. “Can… can I phone you later, when I’m ready? To talk about… things?”

Lex put his hand on Superman’s spandex-covered shoulder. “Of course. We were friends once. We can be again.” He gave Clark’s shoulder a squeeze. “This is a pivot point, an opportunity for change. You – _we_ – can do great things. But you have to let go of the idea that you’re the only person who gets to make decisions about what’s right and wrong for the world. That you’re the world’s leader, that you have the _right_ to make those calls all on your own. That you’re above the law. If you can manage to do that, there’s a chance to move forward. Together.”

Clark nodded again, and as Lex’s hand fell away he flew off in a blur of red and blue, fleeing his thoughts more so than the approaching police who wanted to question him.

“So, the cat is out of the bag at last,” mused Mercy, as she and Hope strolled up to join Lex and Wonder Woman.

Hope snorted. “Took him long enough. Big blue boy scout is thick as two short planks. At least he got it at last. What is it – ten years? Twelve?”

“Almost twelve. He doesn’t get the credit for uncovering it, unfortunately. The blame or credit for that falls on Wonder Woman,” Lex said. “Her ‘lasso of truth’ did all the heavy lifting, not any natural intelligence either of them theoretically possesses.”

“Plan L or X, sir?” Mercy asked, all attention with her eyes fixed on Lex – her friend and her savior – ready to do whatever Lex ordered, even begin executing Plan X, which would see Superman killed by any means necessary. A number of truly lethal Kryptonite-based weapons were kept in reserve in a few lead-lined vaults in various secret locations.

Hope stood quietly next to Lex, watching Wonder Woman. To a casual observer she didn’t look as invested in the situation as Mercy did, but Lex knew otherwise. Should there be a physical threat, she’d shift into bodyguard mode. She was listening, and ready to fight. She just didn’t look like it.

“Plan L, thankfully. He took it well enough, but let’s monitor the situation. Alert everyone the masquerade has fallen and have some of our superpowered beings watching our unpowered agents, in case he gets too rough on purpose or by accident, due to his anger about the situation. Step up surveillance on all allies currently in prison, too.”

Lex gave Mercy a look and a couple of furtive hand signals in _shuwa_ – Japanese sign language – and inclined his head subtly towards Wonder Woman, who was hanging around to eavesdrop curiously on Lex’s conversation with his right-hand woman, rather than talking to the police. Wonder Woman’s profile said that she was always more cooperative with orders or questions when the person speaking to her was female, rather than male.

“In the new spirit of open discussion,” Mercy began, turning to Wonder Woman, “I must insist that you cease any and all attempts to use your magical lasso to compel the truth from any citizens of earth, and in particular American citizens. Even criminals have the right to due process and have the right to remain silent, and your actions are in breach of that law. My employer is a good man, and your actions here today were both illegal and _highly_ dangerous. LexCorp would be happy to assist in paying legal fees with a lawyer of your choice for you to obtain legal advice on appropriate use of your powers.”

Wonder Woman nodded her head in regal acknowledgement. “I appreciate your offer, Ms. Graves, but I can pay for such advice myself, and I assure you I shall seek it out. I can only apologize again for disrupting your plans here today, and your employer’s apparently legal laser research laboratory. I cannot say I am in full agreement with Mr. Luthor’s façade of criminality for Superman to fight, but I understand that his motives, at least, are noble.”

“I have to ask, Wonder Woman,” Mercy asked, “why weren’t you held up in Detroit? You weren’t even supposed to be here today – this shouldn’t have been your fight.”

“The bomb threat? I had a talk with the man about the ethics of killing grown people to save the lives of the unborn, and the need for women to have safe medical facilities for choices they would make anyway. We also talked about his misconceptions about the services Planned Parenthood offers. Then I offered to help find him counselling, and to help line him some work with an adoption agency, or a charity helping single mothers, so he could better focus his passionate care about babies’ lives more constructively.”

Lex blinked. “How did he take that?”

“He seemed angry at first that I destroyed his bomb and was quite surprised I didn’t want to hit him afterwards. But violence is the way of men – it is the last resort of any sensible Amazon. He turned out to be quite enthusiastic about my approach, especially after I wrapped my lasso around myself to demonstrate I was sincere in my offer of aid. He asked what I would have done if he hadn’t agreed to take up my offer of aid, and I explained I would have kept him restrained and waited for the police. He shook my hand and we parted as friends. It was a glorious battle of words for a man’s soul and the lives of women and the unborn. Or so I thought at the time. Was he one of yours?”

“I’m afraid so,” Lex replied. “I’m sure his enthusiasm about your offer to find him work was quite genuine, however, as he’s in rather dire straits with a seriously ill wife to support by whatever means he could find. No doubt you’ve made yourself quite the fan! Speaking of which, now you’re in the know about Project K, Cheetah would probably like to catch up with you some time over dinner. She’s actually quite an admirer of yours, you know. She’s very interested in… your feminist ethics and your exotic background.”

Lex kept a straight face as he spoke, but Mercy let a tiny smirk sneak out.

Wonder Woman looked both intrigued and upset. “Have all my opponents been actors? I have no taste for false fights with those who would be better placed as allies.”

“As far as I’m aware of your battles, only a handful. Any prior to when you began working with Superman would have been genuine, as far as I am aware. My apologies.”

“Accepted. Do call on me if you require any help with managing Superman.” She wrapped her lasso around herself in a couple of shining coils. “I promise I will stand against Superman should he pose a threat to the world or its governments, even though he has been my staunch ally in the past. I stand against the violence of men, and support peaceful solutions when at all possible, but I am ready to battle against him if need be.”

Lex smiled at her vow. “I will. But I hope it will not come to that.”

“I will pray it shall not. The Gods will watch over him, and so shall I. He will need friends now, perhaps more than ever.”


	2. Somebody Save Me

“Superman, save me!”

The throaty, alto tones of Lois Lane yelling in Metropolis echoed in Clark’s super-sensitive ears and his shoulders hunched up as he kept on eating his apricot cobbler and ice cream in the Kent farmhouse in Smallville. He shook his head to clear her voice, trying not to focus on her. Despite his efforts, he heard her again, shriller and more panicked than before. He was too used to listening for her – it was automatic, ingrained now.

“Superman, where are you?! The robot hounds are going to eat me! HELP!”

Clark sighed and slumped tiredly in his chair. He tilted his head to one side to listen in more carefully to Lois and her surroundings, homing in with the precision borne of long practice listening out for her voice.

His mother patted him consolingly on his shoulder. “Is someone calling for you again? Remember, it is alright to take time off. The world managed without you once, it can again. You deserve your break.”

“Yeah, it’s Lois.” He scooped up another spoonful of warm pastry and melting vanilla ice cream. Dessert for dinner had been a _great_ idea.

“Again? I thought she understood you were having personal time. This had better not be like last week when she called for you because she tripped falling down the stairs. That woman needs to learn to take more care.”

“She tumbled down two flights of stairs,” Clark mumbled. “She was being chased by a mob boss. There was a legitimate need for help.”

Martha tutted disapprovingly. “She should leave that sort of thing to the police. She’s learnt to rely on you too much, Clark. And those shoes! I don’t care how much she loves her Jimmy Choos, high heels aren’t appropriate footwear for running down stairs.”

“I’ve got to go, mom. There’s robot dogs chasing her.”

“Are you sure they aren’t Lex’s?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a test? I’m not sure I can take that chance, though.”

“Well, if you’re sure you want to go, I won’t stop you. Finish your cobbler first though, dear. You’ve barely been eating, and I don’t want it going to waste,” she said with a worried frown. Her hand smoothed over his hair, patting him as much to comfort herself as him, he thought. “You can’t live on sunlight alone, or if you can, you _shouldn’t_.”

“Yes, mom.” She’d been fussing over him worriedly for weeks now, screening all his phone calls from people trying to apologize for or justify their actions, encouraging him to continue taking time off from _both_ his jobs, and determinedly trying to tempt Clark’s appetite into reappearing by providing a constant stream of all his favorite foods.

In a burst of superspeed, the last bits of food in Clark’s bowl disappeared, and he was zooming up the stairs to change into his costume.

He streaked across the night sky towards Metropolis in a reflective mood, homing in on Lois’ voice. It led him to a rather seedy industrial area near a river choked with weeds and abandoned shopping carts. Lois’ voice was originating from a LexCorp warehouse, of course. Well, technically it was a BravaTech warehouse – one of LexCorp’s more questionable subsidiary companies. It figured. Lois always preached to him that practically every bit of criminal activity in Metropolis could be traced back to Lex Luthor. He always used to agree… but he never understood just how true that accusation was. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the bulk of the criminal underworld could be traced back to Clark. Because it was all _his_ fault, really. It was _his_ fault Lex had turned to the life of a criminal mastermind.

He’d always believed Lex could do great things, if he threw off the shadow of his father. He’d been right. Lex’s research in the fields of robotics, genetic engineering, weather control, space travel, and physics was all ground-breaking. But he’d made Lex feel like he had no choice but to spend far too much time and money managing Clark. Trying to keep him busy. Trying to stop him from conquering the world out of _boredom_ and self-righteousness.

With the charade ruined, LexCorp had tentatively released a few new products onto the market. Lex had given him a sample of one of them a fortnight ago, so he could examine it however he wanted to, provided Clark understood it was proprietary technology not to be shared with any other business, including but not limited to Queen Industries.

He’d gotten his Fortress in the Arctic to examine the sample microchip thoroughly, which took a day and a half. It was exactly what Lex said it was – a tiny microchip intended to prevent epileptic seizures when surgically implanted in the brain. Lex had told him he’d previously been reluctant to release it to the public before for fear that Clark and his costumed friends would panic and assume it was a mind-control chip. Lex had been right, too. It’s exactly what Clark would have thought. He would’ve smashed up the LexCorp factory making them without a second thought. After the Fortress’ analysis had been completed, he’d double-checked at the factory producing them, just to be thorough. After he’d flown down he’d been escorted straight to the factory floor by a nervously smiling manager, who begged him not to destroy anything, his heart racing in fear at the sight of Superman. Clark had looked at the blueprints and scanned a couple more randomly chosen chips there – they were identical in every way to the sample he’d been given. He’d apologized to the factory manager, who’d been relieved to see him fly off without incident. Glad to see Superman leave. Superman, to the factory manager, was just a destructive and violent monster the man had clearly been fearing would ruin his factory, his livelihood, and the health of millions of people worldwide with epilepsy and a handful of other serious medical conditions. _Superman_. Clark felt ashamed of the title, now. It reeked of arrogance.

Clark stomped through the overgrown grass and weeds up to the front door of Lex’s factory with a bitter look still on his face. He raised his fist to punch the metal reinforced door in… and hesitated. He pressed the intercom button next to the door instead.

“Welcome to BravaTech! How can I help you today?” a pleasant soprano voice asked, despite the late hour. It had the slightly stilted diction of a robotic or AI system.

“Um. This is… Superman. Lois Lane is calling for my help to deal with robotic dogs. May I… come in and find her?”

“Welcome Superman!” chirped the voice. “Ms. Lane can be located on level B2, in the second room on your right as you exit the elevator. The door is labelled ‘Project Rescue Rovers’. Please take the stairs or elevator down two levels, then turn right. Police have already been contacted regarding Ms. Lane’s trespassing.”

The door clicked and swung open. Clark wondered if they always would have done that if he’d asked nicely. So many doors. Sometimes he smashed through the walls or roofs of buildings, if it would save him a few seconds in emergencies. _Fake_ emergencies.

“Thank you, I appreciate your help.” His parents had raised him to be polite. It was high time he remembered to act like it.

“It was my pleasure to serve, Superman,” the robotic voice responded. It might be his imagination, but he thought it sounded genuinely pleased. Clark wondered if it was an AI or just really good programming. He knew Lex was capable of the former.

Clark zipped inside and down the emergency stairs. The building was empty, as one might expect late in the evening when everyone sensible was at home getting ready for bed. His journalistic partner wasn’t usually described as “sensible” however, though no doubt she thought it was sensible to break into LexCorp property when there wouldn’t be anyone around except a possible night watchman or some automated security systems.

Lex had said Lois wasn’t in on his scheme. She apparently genuinely believed all the threats Lex had manufactured were real, just like he had. Jimmy Olsen and Perry White were on the Luthor payroll, however. Jimmy knew everything, while Perry just knew Clark was Superman, and wanted to help Clark keep his job. Perry had been accepting anonymous donations to the _Daily Planet_ from an alleged Superman fan for years and had sworn to Clark that he’d had no idea Luthor was his secret benefactor.

Maybe it was unfair to blame it all on Lex. It was the American government who funded the bulk of LexCorp’s Superman-related expenses. It wasn’t just Lex who feared what Superman might do, or even just America. Five other world governments – that Lex was willing to admit to – had secret federal departments that also liaised with the American branch to ‘manage’ all the world’s superpowered threats, both heroes and villains. Of whom Superman was priority one, taking up the bulk of their pooled funding and resources. Only Doomsday had ever managed to push him – briefly – down to second place.

“Superman!” Lois cried out in relief as Clark hove into sight, his red cape swishing dramatically. She’d taken cover on top of a metal table and was hitting at a robotic dog with a fire extinguisher. Blood dripped from some gashes on her arm. “Luthor’s been making killer dogs that can bite through metal! Get it!”

“Has he,” Clark said flatly, looking at the dog. Sleek metallic body. Glowing red eyes peering out through a mass of foam that Lois had presumably sprayed on its face at some point. Metal teeth that most likely could bite through steel. “So, why are you still alive if they’re such a danger? I only see one dog, by the way.”

“It got my arm! But I sprayed it in the face and that seemed to short something out. The others are still locked up – I stopped them from getting out.” There were a line of metal crates against one wall – lead-lined, of course, so Clark had no idea what was inside. More robot dogs sounded plausible, however.

The dog put its front paws up on the table and opened its mouth. Lois hit it on the nose with the butt end of the fire extinguisher. It didn’t bite through it – it just dropped back down to the ground and circled the table like a shark, just growling. Just one look at its metallic-toothed jaws told Clark that it could have killed her if it wanted to. Clark would’ve criticized her perceptiveness, if not for the agonizing knowledge that his own perspicacity was shamefully lacking.

His crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “What, exactly, were you doing when it bit you? And why are you in this facility late at night without authorization? Breaking and entering, Ms. Lane? Or do you work for Lex Luthor?”

Lex had claimed she wasn’t one of his employees, but Clark was suspicious of _everyone_ now. Surely a smart reporter could see that the robot dog wasn’t _really_ homicidal. Still… he himself had never spotted such things.

Lois’ jaw dropped in shock. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re blaming _me_ for being attacked?”

“Shouldn’t I?” he sniped back. It didn’t sound very heroic. He didn’t _feel_ very heroic. Not anymore.

He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here. Lois was in danger, legitimate danger he’d thought, so he’d come running. Like a well-trained dog, coming to heel at her Pavlovian whistle. Lex had been trying to train him too. Perhaps he’d been listening to the wrong master all these years. _The American government was scared of Superman._ Truth, justice, and the American way, and they were _terrified_ he’d go completely rogue. Scared not just of what he _might_ do, but the illegal things he’d _already_ been doing. In a self-critical exercise, he’d made a list at his mom’s kitchen table of all the times he’d broken the law. It had proven to be a long list. Perry had refused to publish his article criticizing Superman.

“This is an illegal _LexCorp_ facility, run by a shell company that on paper does street repairs, and they’re making _killer robot hounds_! That doesn’t worry you at all?” Lois demanded.

Clark sighed. “No. It’s probably just a misunderstanding. Did you research the company more thoroughly? If you have evidence, you should take it to the police.”

Lois’ brow crinkled up unattractively as she gaped at him. “They’ve also been receiving shipments of Kryptonite here. Does _that_ worry you? There’s another half-dozen hounds in crates, and they’re all probably programmed to kill Superman!”

The dog paused in its circling and growling, flexible metal ears swiveling in Lois’ direction. It turned its head towards Clark, and its eyes switched from red to a sickly glowing green. Clark felt the effects of Kryptonite poisoning instantly and staggered back a few steps.

“I think you said the magic words, Lois,” he said, then let out a pained groan. The robot had internal lead shielding. Lex _always_ hid his Kryptonite behind lead shielding, he had for years now.

The dog leapt at him, and Clark only had a second to dodge. But he didn’t dodge. Clark let it come straight at him, and it landed with a heavy thump on his chest, bowling him over. Its powerful claws dug into his uniform, shredding the tough fabric, and cutting into the greenish-tinged skin of his chest.

He cried out in pain, and Lois screamed. He instinctively grabbed at its jaws as it snapped at him, trying to bite.

Lois was never one to panic for long, however. She bravely started hitting the rear of the dog with the empty fire extinguisher, and the loud clanging grated on his out-of-control super-hearing. She was trying to give him a chance to fight it – a distraction.

“Lois! Leave it!” he croaked out feebly. “Get… to the intercom. Ask the AI to stop the dog. And… to call Lex.” His arms trembled as he held the dog’s head. The Kryptonite inside its head so very, very close.

“Call Luthor? Are you crazy?!” she shrieked. “Use your heat vision!”

“Just… do it! Please!” he begged.

He couldn’t see her move, with a robotic dog snarling right into his face and a sickly green glow visible down its throat as well as radiating from its eyes, but he heard the clatter of her heels moving over the to door. She didn’t ask for help from the AI, she demanded it stridently, but perhaps it would be enough.

He looked at the dog’s jaws – big enough to snap shut around his head. He wondered if it was really programmed to kill him. Lex had been trying to control him, all these years. A decade of managing him, distracting him, so Clark wouldn’t try and conquer the world. Clark wondered… had Lex been trying to kill him, too? There was Kryptonite in the dog, yes. But… only enough to mildly incapacitate him, probably not enough to kill him. Ten times the quantity would probably have him unconscious on the floor in an instant, trying not to vomit as his blood boiled green in his veins and he screamed with agony. The amount in this dog must be small indeed. It was painful and debilitating but not crippling.

He pushed the robot away with his limited strength, not enough to damage it, just moving it away briefly. It lunged back to him instantly, and he just lay on the floor and let it come. He wanted to know. If he was wrong, well, maybe the world would be better off without him anyway. What if his father controlled him?

It bit at his arm, metal teeth slicing through his costume and into his temporarily vulnerable skin, leaving more bleeding wounds. He sobbed as it worried at his arm, shaking it back and forth a couple of times before letting him go. The pain! He rarely knew such pain.

It wasn’t the first time he’d cried. He’d been crying a lot, the past few weeks. It was the first time he’d cried while in costume for a long time, though. He hadn’t cried since the mudslide in Sierra Leone, when he’d arrived too slow to rescue hundreds of people caught up in a tidal wave of earth and debris. There had been children, too many children. The helpless screams for him to save them still haunted his nights. Too much superspeed and he’d kill more than he’d save – humans were so fragile. He’d done what he could and saved a few, dozens even, but it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough.

He was a failure.

The dog paused, eyeing him lying helpless on the floor. It body-slammed Lois as she rushed at it again, armed with the fire-extinguished that had failed to even dent it. She got knocked away, winded, and landed with a crunch on the ground. Something was surely broken – Clark heard the sickening snap of bone as she screamed in pain.

“Leave her! You want me, _Superman_. Just leave her alone. Please, leave her alone,” he begged, tears running from his eyes in a helpless stream.

It bounded back to him, and its jaws locked around his neck. Clark had never felt more scared. His arms twitched with the impulse to fight, and his eyes burned with heat behind his closed eyelids. There were a dozen things he could try, and he did none of them. Its teeth dug in, piercing the skin lightly and drawing a trickle of blood, and he let it. Waiting. For judgement. Did Lex want him dead? Was he that dangerous? That terrifying? Terrifying enough that a man who’d once been his best friend thought the world would be better off without him?

The dog shook him about. Once, twice. Then let him go.

Clark cried some more, ugly tears of pain and relief. And a little guilty regret. _I don’t want to die_ , he told himself, trying to persuade. _Not really._ _Not if Lex thinks there’s something in me worth saving. I can… I can still do good things. Just… more carefully._

He used his arctic breath in the end to restrain the dog, sticking it fast to the tiled floor in a lumpy mess of ice. He didn’t want to damage the dog, even though it kept trying to injure him. Not kill, just injure. He would heal with time and a bit of sunlight, he didn’t need to revenge himself on it. He didn’t want to destroy things any longer. He didn’t want to be the kind of hero governments put at the top of a list above all the world’s real supervillains.

He was still crying when Lex arrived, with a few of his minions in tow. Lois was trying to bandage up Superman’s wounds with strips of fabric torn off the bottom of her skirt and blouse, worriedly murmuring teary reassurances as she watched Superman’s breakdown, apologizing for calling for his help when he clearly wasn’t well.

“ _No, you fool!_ ” Lex snapped out the instant he strode the room, flanked by his two female bodyguards. It was an odd thing to say. It didn’t sound like he was talking to Clark, or even to Lois. He was looking at the dog, and its eyes shuttered over as behind the high-tech plastic eye lenses some lead shields snapped in place inside its head. Its eyes returned to gleaming a demonic bright red, unnerving but less dangerous than a poisonous green, subdued by what was presumably a code phrase to deactivate its violent impulses. Clark slumped in relief as strength started returning to his body and the pain of Kryptonite poisoning ebbed away.

Lois started yelling about murder charges, and the police, and how Lex wouldn’t get away with it this time. An old refrain, worn and tired as Clark felt right now.

“The only crime I have committed this evening, Ms. Lane,” Lex replied, unflappable, “was encouraging Mercy to drive the Porsche so fast I will no doubt be receiving a deluge of speeding tickets tomorrow. The police, you will no doubt be pleased to hear, will be here within minutes. To press charges of breaking and entering. You will find my tolerance of your intrusion on my facilities has rapidly eroded, of late.”

“The door was unlocked, and I heard screams coming from inside,” Lois lied unconvincingly. “In any case, that’s nothing compared to the _attempted murder of Superman_! You’re going to be in jail a long, long time, Luthor!”

“No.”

Lois spun to look at Clark.

“Leave him alone. We wouldn’t have been hurt if we hadn’t broken in. This wasn’t a trap, Lois.”

“But he programmed his dogs to-”

“Don’t say it!” Clark interrupted desperately. “Just… don’t. They’re clearly voice activated. Lex, why did you… What are they really built for?”

“Rescue operations to retrieve trapped civilians, such as in the aftermath of earthquakes or buildings collapsed by terrorist attacks. They have powerful claws and jaws to dig through rubble, can obey simple voice commands, and have a powerful sensor array to detect signs of life such as listening for heartbeats or sensing body heat with infrared. They are also equipped for bomb detection and disposal.”

“For which Kryptonite is an essential part of the design process,” Lois scoffed.

“That does not form part of _my_ original design, as LexCorp and BravaTech records will prove. It was no doubt the result of industrial sabotage in an attempt to frame my company. I have many enemies, Ms. Lane.”

 _A half-truth_ , Clark thought. _They were also clearly designed as another distraction for me._

“Enemies including Superman, your archnemesis! Thus, the Kryptonite,” she hissed angrily.

Lex looked over at Clark, propped up sitting against a wall, with bits of blood-soaked black cloth tied around his arms. “Not my nemesis anymore, I think.”

“Yeah, right, forgive and forget,” she scoffed.

“I’m trying to,” Clark murmured.

Lex cleared his throat and fussed with his purple tie uncomfortably, hands tugging at the slightly messy knot and smoothing over the thick brushed silk. “Yes, well, LexCorp is undertaking some ahh… restructuring in the spirit of good will. However, these things take _time_ , you must understand, Superman.”

“I understand.” There would be a lot of clean-up to do to refocus Lex’s vast business empire solely on non-Superman-related legal projects. No doubt he was keeping at least a few of his secret projects active in case of emergencies. Superman couldn’t be trusted, after all.

The police arrived not long after that, bustling around getting statements. Clark managed to get to his feet at last, his wounds starting to heal over as the pain of the Kryptonite faded away. Feeling invulnerable once more. Alien.

The officer in charge was all ready to let Lois walk and to arrest Lex, just on Superman’s say so. Eager to obey a superhero and discard the law he’d sworn to uphold. Clark felt thick with the shame and guilt he thought might never go away.

“I trust in the legal system. Just… go through your due process,” Clark said, his injured arms folded with a wince, and his stance wide and commanding.

“Do you have any charges you feel should be laid against Mr. Luthor, Superman?” the officer asked, eager to please.

“Assault, and attempted murder!” Lois insisted stridently.

“No, nothing,” Clark insisted.

“But Superman… you’re injured?” the officer said hesitantly.

“Ms. Lane accidentally triggered a… self-defense system of sorts, I believe. The robot wasn’t actually trying to kill me.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“Yes, Lex did nothing wrong.”

“Since when do you call him ‘Lex’?” Lois cried. “He’s always been ‘Luthor’!”

“I think, perhaps, he’s always been ‘Lex’, actually,” Clark responded, thoughtfully.

“O…kay. Mr. Luthor, do you wish to lay any charges?” the officer asked, turning reluctantly to Lex at last. Lois they’d already heard from, at length.

Lex looked at Clark, as if weighing him up, and whispered to his assistant, Hope. Clark very carefully _didn’t_ listen in, dulling his hearing deliberately. He didn’t have the right. Hope moved to the intercom and had a whispered conversation with the AI, then returned to Lex and reported in.

“Superman is exempt from the charges of breaking and entering that my company here will be laying against Ms. Lane,” Lex pronounced. “Apparently, he knocked politely and was buzzed in, by the building’s RoboButler system. No breaking and entering, no property damage or corporate espionage, no injuries to any employees. A very good evening’s work really. I’m impressed, Superman.” Lex’s tiny smile of approval was like a balm to Clark’s troubled soul.

Lex and Clark were both free to go, in the end, while Lois was taken away in handcuffs, distraught and confused. “I’ll find out what you’ve done to Superman, Luthor! The Kryptonite is evidence enough – I’m getting a lawyer, and she’ll bring you down!”

It probably wouldn’t be enough – Lex usually escaped with a few fines, and rare minimal jail time, no matter how outrageous his schemes. Kryptonite wasn’t illegal – LexCorp’s lawyers and lobbyists had seen to that long ago. Clark had always thought the reason behind that was corruption, but perhaps it had been something simpler – fear.

Clark stood there like a statue as the cops left with Lois, staring at the little puddles of his own blood on the floor. There was a time when he would have evaporated them with heat vision, desperate to keep any biological samples from falling into Luthor’s hands. What would Lex do, with a sample of his blood?

“What would you do with my blood?” he asked, putting his thoughts out in the open. It was the simplest way. Perhaps if they’d both communicated better it would never have come to this – Clark secretly feared by his friend and his own government, and Lex so obsessed with the desire to control him that he devoted half his life to coming up with increasingly crazy schemes.

“What?”

“My blood. On the floor there. If I just flew off and left it there, what would you do?”

Lex walked over to stand next to Clark, looking down at the tiny crimson puddles. “Collect samples and experiment on it, I suppose. Does that frighten you?”

“No. Yes. A little, I guess,” he admitted. Truth between them, now. “My father always said if anyone found out… I’d end up in a lab. Studied and dissected. What experiments would you do?”

Lex nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Clark could hardly remember the last time Lex had looked at him with anything but hatred or anger, not counting that horrible day when he’d learnt the truth – that his life was a lie. “Genetic analyses, to start with. I’d love to find out what your chromosome count is, whether you’re genetically compatible with humans. How deep the differences run. Studies on your blood cells. I’d have some scientists look at the effects of yellow and red light, and to see what Kryptonite does to you at a cellular level.”

“His _father_ said that?” Hope murmured softly to Mercy, but loudly enough to be overheard even without superhearing.

“Not the hologram. Johnathan Kent, I expect,” Mercy replied, with a sidelong glance at Clark.

He flinched but didn’t say anything. Of _course_ they knew everything.

“Anything you want to tell me about, Clark? To save me some trouble in the lab?”

It was too late. But maybe it would still mean something. It was stupid, but he wanted to say it anyway.

“You… hit me with your car. And I do believe a man can fly, though I didn’t back then. I didn’t know much at all, when I was a kid. I was scared, and I didn’t even know _why_ I wasn’t killed by your car. It surprised me too. I’m sorry, Lex.”

Lex stared at Clark, his eyes hungry, and his hands clenched tightly at his sides. “That’s… Thank you. Thank you, Clark.”

“Bit late, if you ask me,” Mercy scoffed.

“Too late for revelations, not too late for an apology,” Hope said, gazing softly at Lex.

“I have microscopic vision,” volunteered Clark, hoping to share a secret, no matter how late.

“I know about that. Otherwise, how would you be able to examine the anti-epilepsy chips without equipment?” Lex said, with a bright and carefree laugh.

 _Oh._ Clark thought a moment. Was there a secret Lex _didn’t_ know?

“I heal better under yellow sunlight. I have an eidetic memory.”

“The first I knew about, obviously, but the second is a surprise. How interesting! Why didn’t you get better grades at Smallville High, then?”

Clark shrugged. “Mom and dad. They wanted me to be ‘normal’.”

“They told you to do badly at school?”

“Well, not exactly. They just told me repeatedly not to stand out, to act like everyone else. Not to rush through any exams, or anything. They explained about carefully flunking Phys Ed – they didn’t want me hurting anyone or being spotted being too fast or too strong.”

Lex shook his head and sighed. “You should tell Martha about that. I bet you a truck she’ll tell you off for not doing your best. You could’ve been Clark Kent, genius scholar, without seeming an alien. An eidetic memory is within human norms.”

“Probably not like mine,” Clark admitted. “I don’t forget anything. I can speed-read teach-yourself-a-language books and some dictionaries and learn a new language within an hour, though my accent takes more work. Facts I’m good with – making connections between things I’ve memorized is harder, so languages are generally pretty easy so long as the grammar is properly explained, while something like interpreting what a poet meant in a particular verse is harder. It’s part of why I enjoyed studying literature and journalism – it was a challenge to analyse texts and be creative.”

“It’s funny seeing him like this, isn’t it? Not quite the bumbling reporter, not quite Superman,” Hope mused to Mercy, dreadlocked hair swishing as she turned away from staring at him to chat to her friend.

“Everything’s just an act,” sighed Clark, turning his head away from them. “Everyone, on every side. Just… a play. Everyone playing their part. I thought I was the only one pretending, but we all were.”

“Are you alright?” Lex asked, soft and gentle.

“This is your fault too, you know,” Clark said, more sad than accusing. “Why didn’t you just _tell_ me? Talk to me? I’m not an idiot… I like to think I would have listened.”

“I tried, I really did. You _didn’t_ listen,” Lex said, bitterness in his voice, going colder now. “If you have an eidetic memory, think of the night we watched that documentary in the penthouse about Kim Jong-il. Do you remember what you said, when you outlined your daydreams about how you’d overthrow half the world’s governments? When you started thinking about killing people? Making your plan to conquer the world in all but name? I tried talking you out of it, but you barely listened to a word I said, you just kept outlining all the things ‘Superman’ could fix.”

Clark nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember. I can see how that would have scared you. It’s not an excuse, I guess, but… I was spending a lot of time in the Fortress. My father – Jor-El – was very critical of a lot of things. I guess it was having an impact. He’s always wanted me to rule the earth.”

“Then you got busy. Occupied with other things,” Lex said smugly.

“Yes. I saw him less,” Clark admitted. “Looking after Metropolis became a full-time job, and I didn’t have time to visit the Fortress, or to think about how to make the world as a whole a better place. I was busy surviving and fighting villains. Your villains.”

“You still took time out to steal a number of countries’ nuclear weapons and throw them into the sun,” Lex reminded him, his voice accusatory.

Clark winced. “I don’t know if I’m sorry about that or not. I still think most of them shouldn’t have access to nuclear weapons. They could literally destroy the earth, Lex!”

“They just built _more_ , Clark. Kept deep in the earth in lead-lined vaults studded with black-market Kryptonite. Ready to fire at America, since you’d painted a big red X on it.”

Clark hung his head, defeated.

While Hope hovered watchfully next to Lex, Mercy collected some blood samples off the floor for her boss.

Lex sighed. “Go home, Clark.”

“I don’t want to. Mom will fuss about my cuts and the blood on my uniform,” he admitted, and ignored Hope’s muffled snickers, and the way her dark eyes gleamed with mirth.

“How _did_ you get injured? They should not have been that much of a challenge,” Lex asked curiously. “Are you particular susceptible to Kryptonite at the moment, for some reason?”

“I just didn’t want to fight. I wanted to see what it would do if I didn’t.”

Lex stared at him. “Oh Clark… I think you should… Perhaps it would be best if you stayed with someone for a while.”

“I told you, I don’t want mum to see me with my costume all cut up, and blood all over me. She’ll worry,” Clark mumbled. “Lois is on her way to jail, and Jimmy and I aren’t talking. He’s… angry I found out. He’s scared of me now, worried I’ll do something. I yelled, but that was it! Really it was. I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Superman doesn’t yell except at villains, and Clark Kent _never_ yells. He’s not sure _what_ you’ll do right now. Clark… your eyes were glowing red when you ranted at him, dressed in your cheap suit and fake glasses. You frightened the life out of him!”

“They were? I didn’t mean to… it’s just… strong emotions trigger my heat vision,” Clark mumbled, “and it’s tough right now. But I’d _never_ hurt Jimmy. Really I wouldn’t.”

Jimmy had never really been his friend. He was scared of Clark. _Terrified_. All those times he’d heard Jimmy’s heart beating fast as he snapped pictures in the middle of battles – had that been excitement at getting a great shot, or fear?

“Come home with me, then,” Lex offered, making Clark’s brooding eyes snap to him in disbelief.

“ _You’re_ scared of me too!”

“Of course. I have been for years. The offer is still there, however. We were friends, once. We can be again.”

Lex’s face looked as unflappable and inscrutable as ever. Superhearing snapped into action in a reflexive impulse, and Clark heard Lex’s heart thudding away at a rapid pace.

“I could kill you,” Clark suggested. “In an instant, less than the blink of an eye. For lying to me and treating me like a rabid dog all these years. Do you honestly want to invite me into your home?”

“You could,” Lex said calmly, while his heart rate skipped and thundered along, “but I don’t think you will.”

Clark heard the tiny quiet movements of Lex’s bodyguards shuffling around behind him, probably readying weapons. Against someone with superspeed, they needed the edge. He didn’t turn to look at them. Let them do what they wanted.

“I’m not safe.”

“You’re safer right now than you have been for a decade,” Lex rebutted, “and if my judgement turns out to be incorrect, my penthouse has half a dozen countermeasures designed to subdue or kill you, many of which you’re unaware of. There is no place on earth safer to be with you, and if you killed me there, you would not escape alive.”

Clark stared at Lex, then nodded his acquiescence. “Alright then, let’s go. Lex.”

Lex’s smile was brilliant.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a "Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal" comic by Zach Weinersmith, entitled ["The Real Supervillain"](https://www.smbc-comics.com/comic/the-real-supervillain).


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